Previous Chapters Next
Close
The Mare in the Mirror3,293 words
Remembrance6,278 words
On Trial 6,215 words

Remembrance

Chapter II:Remembrance

I hear the cries of my past echo as screams in my head. A relentless indifference to myself, a virulent torture, forsaking all cessations, forcing its weight on me. Intolerable, yet unavoidable. The storm in full force as it rained this agony on me.

The memories and shadows moved across my mind like a phantasmagoria, penetrating my defenses. They swarmed around my head, mocking and ridiculing me, showing me the sins of past mistakes.

There was only one escape, one way out of this doom. I had no choice; either surrender to the storm, or face a lifetime of this misery. I had no alternative. I had to. It was all that was left to me.

With a feeling of dread and horror, I did what I thought I could never do: I remembered.

“I hate you. I hate the way you make me act. I hate the way you make me talk. I hate the way you make me dress. I hate this life. But most of all, I hate you!” These were the words I always wanted to say, but couldn’t. The words that, every time I saw my parents, I wanted to hurl at them and make them feel the way they made me feel. But they were the words I never said. The words I couldn’t say, or risk losing everything I held dear in life. I was only fifteen years old then. What would I do if I did tell them, and because of their closed mindedness, what good would come of it?

Most ponies would have no idea if they met me today, but I once used to live in Canterlot as the child of royalty. Then, I wasn’t called Vinyl or any other name that I’m known by today. My name was, and I guess technically still is, Viniam Mary Sicarth. But that was a long time ago.

I say I was royalty, but in reality, the only royal aspect of my family was that we were clear descendants of the Kings and Queens of the ancient Unicorn Tribe from all those eons ago. We held no real power in the affairs of the Castle, nor were we given titles such as Prince or Princess. But family tradition, which was nothing more than stuck up pride, demanded that we stay as royal as possible, mainly by keeping our “purity” and holding power in the courts and councils and war generals in the Equestrian Empire.

Because of this “tradition”, I was expected to act as if I was miss frilly-two-shoes; to always walk with a dignified expression, to always hold myself up higher then everypony else, and to basically become a self-righteous snob like all my family before me. I couldn’t stand it. Every moment that my mother made me practice talking with a high pitched Canterlot voice instead of my natural bass like articulation was like chewing glass, and the whole point of the eye-changing spell that my mother taught me was so I could go out into public without what she called, “A diabolical set of red eyes.”, which only increased my hate for her. Why were they so unhappy with who I was?

To my parents I was nothing more than a pawn that they could use, through royal training and manipulation, to somehow get the Royal title again added to the Sicarth name. All I was to them was a ticket back to being one of the most powerful families in the Empire. My father would never admit to it, telling me in his dignified Canterlot accent, “My dear Vinia, your training is only for the purpose of preparing you for a proper, couth life and to minimize the risk of condemnation from society.” Obviously, I didn’t take it to heart. Notice, he didn’t say “Because we love you, my child.”, or anything else a father might say to his low self-esteemed daughter; he only cared to give me a proper “couth” life with acceptance from society. That was my parents all right; all training, yet completely missing the overall picture: me.

There was only one pony in my entire foalhood who showed any real love towards me, and that was my Uncle Monty. When I was young, he was the only pony who took time to see to my needs, regardless of his own. I remember back when I was nothing more than a filly, he would set me in his lap and tell me stories, all from how Equestria was formed or the scary tale of the Mare in the Moon. I remember sitting there, devouring every story and hanging onto every one of his words. He had a talent for doing that.

He wasn’t really my uncle though. Technically speaking, he was my great-great cousin from my father’s side, which would make him my grandfather’s cousin. He was the son of my great-great aunt, who married outside the Sicarth family, so he wasn’t related by name, only blood.

But that didn’t matter to my parents. They hated him, and treated him with as much disdain and loathing as possible because he had gone against everything they believed in and eloped with a Pegasus back when he was my age. Because he was only related by blood, and didn't share the Sicarth name, the family name remained "pure": but because he had married, and later had foals with a Pegasus, he was hated and treated like he had committed the ultimate crime. But about two years after I had been born, his wife had died from a mysterious illness, and having no other family to turn to, he came to live with me and my parents in Canterlot.

We were outcasts, he and I. Not because of any choices we made, but because we were different.

My past is haunted by terrible memories of how wrong my life has been, but I remember now that there was a short time when I was happy, listing to my uncle’s stories and all the games we would play when I was a filly, back before reality came down on me in a crushing torrent.

I remember one occasion in particular when he told me the story of the Three Tribes for the first time. I remember sitting in his lap as always, staring wide eyed with my mouth agape as he went on in descriptive detail to tell of the bitter relationship between the Tribes, of how they set out to find a new land and how they inevitably became friends in the end.

“And so it was.” My uncle finished. “That all the leaders of the three Tribes, the Commander of the Pegasi, the Princess of the Unicorns, and the Chancellor of the Earth Ponies raised the new flag with the united banner, declaring in loud voices ‘This is our new home. This is Equestria!’”

“That was amazing, Uncle Monty!” I remember saying gleefully. “Tell me another one!”

“Now, now, my dear Little Vinie.” He said in his deep gentle voice. Little Vinie, that was the nick name he had for me. I never minded it, and it suited me better than Vinia, Viniam, or just plain old Vin.

“That was the third one I’ve told you today. Surely there is something you would rather do then sit here listening to an old colt ramble on?”

“Oh no, Uncle Monty! Your stories are the best!”

“Oh, they are, are they? Even better than the stories your mother tells you?”

“Mommy doesn’t tell me stories. She says they are ‘trite.’”

“Really, now? Bah! What does she know?” I didn’t think anything of it then, but now I remember that his eyes went out into space, as if looking at another place, another time. Remembering. “Yeah,” he said to himself. “What the buck could they possibly know?”

I giggled, laughing at the strange word he had used.

“What’s so funny?”

“’Buck.’ That’s funny. You said a funny word.”

His face instantly reddened, embarrassment creasing across his old, wrinkled face. “Now, Vinie, do you know what that word means?”

“No.” I was only a filly.

“Well, you see, your uncle didn’t mean to use that word. It’s a bad word, a really bad word, and I don’t want to hear you use it, you got that?” He said, waving a hoof in my face.

“Yes, Uncle Monty.” I said ashamedly.

“Oh, now, don’t feel so sad.” He reassured me, patting my head. “You just didn’t know any better.”

He fell silent then, and looked down at me with reverence in his eyes. I could see tears forming around their edges.

“Do you, Little Vinie, know what Equestria means?”

“Isn’t it the name of our home?”

“Well, yes, but do you know what the name means?”

I had to think for a minute before wagging my head.

“Equestria means ‘New Harmony’ in the Old Pony Language.”

“Then why didn’t they just call it that?” I asked.

He chuckled in that loving, gentle grandfather-like fashion that he always did when around me. “Well, you see, they did. Back then, nopony talked the same way that you and I do. Over the years, the Old Pony Language changed in many ways, until, eventually, they were speaking a practically different language. Equestria literally meant New Harmony for the Three Tribes way back then.”

“So,” I said, slightly confused. “Ponies used to speak differently than today?”

“Exactly.” He said, bopping my nose playfully. By this point, tears had become visible under his eyes, and even a couple ran down his cheeks. “Do you know what ‘Viniam’ means?”

I was startled by the question, not seeing where he was going with it. “Why, that’s me, of course!”

“Yes, but do you know what it means?”

“Is it old pony speak for New Harmony?” I randomly guessed.

“No, you silly filly.” He said kindly, tears now running down both sides of his face. “It’s an Old Pony word for ‘Sacred Honor.’”

Not knowing what either one of those words meant, I asked, “What does that mean?”

“It means, Little Vinie, that...” He paused, looking for the right word. “It means that you are special, my dear Little Vinie.”

“I’m special?” I said, milking it, as all foals do.

“Yes,” He replied, the tears now coming down in a steady rhythm. “More special then you know.”

I wished I had asked what was wrong because that was one of the last times that I ever got to be with him. After his heart attack, he was confined to his bed for the rest of his life, where he died shortly before I left Canterlot forever. After he was sent to live the rest of his days in a bed, I didn’t see him as much, my parents finding other things for me to do, more “appropriate activities other than listening to the farcical, unimportant stories and flights of Fancy from the mouth of that impure imbecile” as my mother put it. Instead, they had me do things like practicing dancing with a book balancing on my head, or had me memorize the proper, lady like way to eat, walk, talk, and even act and dress. I hated every moment of it.

I can’t help but think that if it wasn’t for my parents and their snooty, up tight ways how different things would be now. I probably would have stayed in Canterlot, married a Stallion of my parents choosing, and would probably be living comfortably with a couple of foals to look after. I can’t say I regret loosing that.

It happened one night that began like any other. We were all gathered in the gilded dining hall waiting as our butler Jeffery served the measly portions of food that we always had while my parents discussed politics as usual.

“Honestly,” My mother said after taking a sip from the wine glass that she held up with her magic. “If that Pegasus Javelin thinks he will gain another term as Captain of the Royal Guard, he is very much mistaken. I wouldn’t vote for him, even if he was the last suitable stallion on the face of the earth.”

My father, who sat at the head of the table with Mother on his right and Uncle Monty to his left, looked over at her rather offended. “What if I was still around and chose to run for the position of Captain? Would you not choose me instead?”

“Now Reginald dear,” Mother said, patting his arm. “I said ‘suitable’, and you hardly fall under that category, now do you?”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me.”

“Why,” Mother continued. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Celestia had him stripped of his rank and exiled from the Empire.”

“Well, he certainly will be stripped of his rank.” Father commented. “After the way he harassed that poor unicorn boy at last year’s Summer Sun Celebration, he deserves no lesser of a punishment.”

“Pardon my interruption, sir.” Jeffery said as he set Father’s food in front of him. “But I remember reading an article about that incident in the Canterlot Times, and if the writer was correct, I believe it was the unicorn that caused the altercation, not Commander Javelin.”

“Jeffery,” Father returned impatiently. “Was I including you in our conversation?”

Jeffery looked as if he was about to argue, but remembered his station and simply replied “No, sir.”

“Good. Now resume your duties and keep your opinions to yourself.” Jeffery dipped his head and left to fetch the rest of the food.

“Well,” Mother continued. “Even if he was not a direct cause of the quarrel, he was most certainly a contributing factor to it. The colt is nothing more than a rude imbecile, with a pompous attitude and harsh military mind set on life. Why, are you aware that one of his soldiers accidently sneezed when at attention, and Javelin had him stand rooted in the same place for almost two whole days?”

“Well, the Royal Guard is trained to be the best soldiers and fighters in Equestria as their job is to protect the Princess, our fair ruler. But two days is an extreme.”

Jeffery returned once again from the kitchen, this time carrying two trays with his magic. My stomach rumbled at the thought of food. My parents had kept me busy almost the entire day, and I had missed lunch and was anxious to see what was for dinner. Jeffery set my plate in front of me and lifted the lid, and my heart instantly plummeted in disappointment. Instead of a well nourishing meal as I had hoped for, it was only a plate of three baby carrots, two pieces of lettuce and a measly little shrunken grape that was only a few moments away from being a raisin.

Mother saw my disappointment and said in what I took to be a comforting tone, “Now, Vinia, you are entering a stage in your life when you must be very cautious about what you eat so you can grow into teen hood with an acceptable figure.” Then she resumed talking to my father.

I sighed glumly and poked my food with my fork (I had yet to figure out how to use magic). I felt a nudge on my shoulder and looked over to see my Uncle holding his hoof to his mouth in the “Don’t tell” gesture. He looked down and I followed his gaze to the underside of the table to see his free hoof covertly offering me one of his juicy celery stalks, away from the eyes of my parents. I leaned down and hastily gobbled it up before they noticed what we were up to.

“He said that to her face?” Mother said, replying to something father had mentioned. “I’m surprised that Celestia didn’t have him court-martialed on the spot!”

“Well that’s the war-minded out look of the Pegasi for you. Sweet Mother of Celestia, what is it that provokes them so? It’s like they are given control over the weather, and all of the sudden, they think they’re gods.”

“Now Reginald,” Mother said, rather disapprovingly and looked directly at Uncle Monty. “It’s not their fault. They are, after all, a daft breed of pony.”

My Uncle, who had been ignoring the conversation so far, slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers and his usually jovial features took on an edge of seriousness. “Don’t you talk about her that way.”

“Her?” Mother replied, purposely taken aback. “How was I talking about her? But even you must admit, darling, that there was something…off about her.”

“Oh, most certainly.” Father replied. “The way she handled business by being more concerned for the economy rather than her own personal gain was practically a heinous crime in itself."

“And let’s not forget the way she treated the poor and weak and was always willing to lend a hoof, even at her own expense. The poor and weak are poor and weak because of their own ignorance. They don’t deserve such compassion. I dare say she was the dumbest and most idiotic prone Pegasus in all of existence.”

Her horn glowed a deep purple as she lifted her glass to take another sip of wine, but suddenly the liquid jumped up all on its own and splashed against her face, drenching her mane. I quickly turned to see a dark green glow subside from around my Uncles horn. His features were no longer pleasant, but clenched in a rage I had never seen him express before.

Father was instantly on his feet and yelled at Uncle Monty “How dare you do that to my wife?”

“How dare you do that to mine?” He shouted even louder and pounded the table forcefully, causing the china-wear and glasses to tinker and ring. As he spoke, he revealed a level of fierceness to his voice that I had never heard before. Throughout the time I had known him, he had always been meek and mild mannered when it came to other ponies disapproving of his “impurity”; but that day it seemed as if there was something else both he and my parents knew that they weren’t telling me.

Several minutes that seemed like hours were spent in silence, in which time both my father and Uncle Monty stared at each other, as if dueling with their minds. Mother finally decided to break the silence. “You should be ashamed of yourself for acting so foalishly in our home that we graciously opened up to you after nopony else would have you. Just who do you think you-”

“Oh, shut it.” Uncle Monty said. “When will you two learn that the world doesn’t revolve around you? Life is not about you. News flash: you’re not even Royalty anymore! You just sit here on your pampered behinds leeching off the money your ancestors worked tirelessly to make, lounging around, scheming to get your way. You’re nothing but self-righteous swine, and you certainly don’t deserve any of the luxuries that you flippantly abuse, including having this precious gem as a daughter. You lie, cheat, connive and steal for your own agenda. You are nothing but a bunch of loathing, egocentric wretches!”

“Ahem.” We all looked in the direction of the cough to see Jeffery standing in the door way. “Sorry again for interrupting, but-”

“Oh, what is it Jeffery?” Father said testily.

“I was just going to suggest that given the direction that the current conversation is going, that it might be best if I escorted young Viniam off to bed for the evening.” There was something in his voice, I couldn’t be sure what, but it was as if he was subtly hinting at something.

“Oh, very well.” My father agreed. “Off to bed, Vinia.”

“But I’m not even tired!” I protested.

“No objections.” Mother said, wagging a hoof in my face. “You heard your father, now it’s time for bed.”

I sighed once more that evening with disappointment and turned to leave, when Uncle Monty placed a hoof on my shoulder.

“Viniam,” he said, and I turned to face him. “You need to know, that no matter what happens and no matter what anypony says tonight, you will always be my Little Vinie, and I still love you.”

“I love you too, Uncle Monty.”

This simple act of foalish sentiment had more of an emotional effect then it should have had, because his face lit up with a smile and tears formed under his eyes.

“Now, how about giving your uncle a kiss good night?”

I leaned over and gave him a small peck on the cheek, as I often did before going to bed, and then let Jeffery walk me out of the dining hall. As we left, both my parents maintained a steady, threatening gaze with Uncle Monty, who unwaveringly returned it. Once we were out of the room, with the door closed behind us, there was instantly an explosion of loud voices beyond, and I heard Uncle Monty use the ‘bad word’ repeatedly.

We walked up the stairs in awkward silence, listening to the muffled argument from below. It wasn’t awkward because of the argument though, but rather because it was silent. Jeffery, although he was still fairly young and only in his late twenties, had been the family butler for as long as I could remember. But for some reason, he always went to great lengths to make sure that I was well taken care of, such as in this case taking measures to ensure that I wasn’t caught up in a family quarrel. He was the butler and was his job to look after his clients, but it seemed that he took particular interest in serving me, which was a little awkward at times.

We got to my room still not having said anything to each other; and as Jeffery tucked me into my four poster bed, my mind kept going back to what Uncle Monty had said, or rather, the way he had said it. The whole argument began when Mother had insulted his wife, which was strange because he was usually very meek and indifferent to disapproval when it came to his impurity. It was almost as if they had been hinting towards something else entirely. Then there was what he had said to me before I left the room. What had he meant by “No matter what anypony says tonight”?

When Jeffery was positive that I was comfortable and ready for a good night’s rest, he turned to leave, shutting out the lights as he reached the door.

“Jeffery?” I said.

“Yes, miss Sicarth?” He replied, turning back to me, the light from the hall falling around his charcoal gray flank.

“Do you know why Uncle Monty is mad at Mommy and Daddy?”

He paused for a moment in solemn silence. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

“Will you tell me?”

“It would be entirely inappropriate for a pony in my station to tell you of such matters.”

“Huh?”

“No,” he reworded for my young mind. “No, Viniam, I won’t. That is something you need to hear from your parents.” And with that, he closed the door, casting my room into complete night.

I spent the next several hours tossing and turning, genuinely trying to get to sleep, but the angry voices coming from downstairs interrupted my dreams and would drag me back into the real world every time I even so much as dozed. I couldn’t make out what was said, but the tone was unmistakable; harsh and murderous.

I held my hooves over my ears and buried my head in my pillows to block out the voices, but I could find no escape. Finally, when the voices showed no sign of easing, I flung the covers off, exited the room, and raced down the hall. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was only five years old at that time, so my heart still clung to a false sense of innocence in reality. I thought, like all young ponies, that the world was still wholesome and perfect, including my wretched parents. I couldn’t just lay idle while they fought, and decided to put an end to it.

I passed a startled Jeffery as I flew down the stairs. “Miss Sicarth,” he said. “What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

“Somepony has to stop them, Jeffery!” I shouted over my shoulder, not even slowing down. “They can’t keep going on like this! Somepony has to stop them!” Without giving him a chance to respond, I jumped the last step and made a dash for the dining room.

“Miss Sicarth, that is not a good ide-”

I ignored him burst through the double doors.

They were much like we had left them. Mother was still seated at the table while father and Uncle Monty stood facing each other; their demeanors each trying desperately to show male superiority over the other. Their clenched jaws and hostile glares betrayed the immense disdain that they had for one another.

“Are you aware,” Father was shouting. “Of all that we have done and gone through to fix your mistake?”

“My mistake?” Uncle Monty roared. “What about the one that you two are currently involved in?”

Nothing had changed. They were still going at tooth and claw. Somepony had to do something or they were going to kill each other.

“STOP!” I screamed, my squeaky filly voice cracking. “You all need to just stop fighting! You can’t keep going on like this! It’s just not right; it can’t be!” There was dead silence once I finished, tears now streaming down my face.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Jeffery said behind me. “I tried to keep her from interrupting. Here, I shall-”

“You’re excused, Jeffery.” Father said.

“But sir, pardon me for saying so but-”

“You are excused. That means go.”

Jeffery was silent for a moment, then said “As you wish sir.” and then left, closing the door behind him.

There was another moment of silence.

“What are you doing out of bed, Vinia?” Father said, forcing himself to remain calm for my sake.

“I couldn’t go to sleep because all I could hear was the nasty and mean things you, Mommy, and Uncle Monty were shouting and, and…” By this time I was sobbing and choked on my own words.

My ever comforting Uncle Monty instantly rushed to my side and embraced me in his arms, offering me solace. “Shh, hush now.” He said reassuringly, stroking my mane. “It’s all right, Little Vinie. I’m here now, everything’s okay.” Little did he know.

“Viniam,” Father said. “I understand that this has upset you, but there are rules and regulations in this household that are to be obeyed to the letter. Now, you were told by both your mother and I to go to bed, and this was an adult conversation. As our daughter, you are required to respect these guidelines and regulations-”

“’Rules and regulations?’” Uncle Monty said forcefully, his chest vibrating next to me with his words. “That’s what you going to tell your crying daughter? That she needs to obey rules and regulations? What kind of parents are you? Are you so heartless that you will turn away your own daughter when she needs you the most?”

“She is my daughter! And I have the right to parent as I-”

“Exactly!” Uncle Monty hollered back, and I could feel a pulsing rhythm as his heart increased with rage. “She is your child! And yet you treat her no different than one of your degraded colt-servants!” He practically screamed the last words, and I looked up to see his face redden and contort with rage.

“Look!” He said, moving his arms to show me to my parents, as if revealing me for the first time. “Look at her! She needs you, but you just push her away as if she’s trash! You can’t keep passively overlooking her like this!”

“Now I have had just about enough of you!” Mother said throwing a napkin she was holding onto the table. “You live here by our grace, and you also are expected to respect our way of living. We don’t expect you to live by our understanding, but we at least expect you to accept our choices as our own. You may not completely agree with our lifestyle, but that does not mean that you should treat us as if we are nothing more than dogs! How dare you? If anypony here is a dog, it is you, with your impure flesh and-”

“When are you going to tell her?” Uncle Monty interrupted. Both my mother and father fell into silence. “Well? You did plan on telling her one day didn’t you?” They just stared back at him. “Unbelievable. You bucking wretches! You weren’t even going to tell her? You were just going to let her go through life not knowing?”

“Not knowing what?” I asked.

But he just ignored me. “How can you even sleep at night? You talk about all you’ve done for this family, but what about what I’ve done, eh? What about the things I’ve had to give up, just to help you fulfill your selfish desires? You asked so much of me, and I granted it, but how can you ask this is of Vinia? She’s just a filly! And you can cut the ‘grace’ crap. I know the only reason that you put up with an old geezer like me is because you’re afraid of me.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Father scoffed.

“I know you fear me, fear what I know. You both do. I can see it in your eyes. You’re afraid that I’ve told her the truth, but that’s not my place! I will not be around to see the sadness in her eyes, no, I leave that special task for you, you good for nothing sinners.

“But when are you going to tell her?” His voice growing even more powerful, causing spit to fly out of his mouth. “When are you going to tell her that she is really…that she is...” His voice was suddenly lost on him, and his breathing started to come only in ragged gasps. “Th-that she’s….” He stuttered and looked around, as if he was becoming disoriented and didn’t know where he was. He fell to the floor, accidentally flipping me over next to him. I landed on my side and quickly looked over to see him convulsing from a fit of terrible coughing, his hooves clutched to his chest, and his face turning blue from suffocation.

“Uncle Monty!” I screamed, and instantly rushed to his side.

He lay there, coughing and wheezing, his frail body shaking violently with every convulsion. The coughing eased slightly and he tried to stand but his weak legs couldn’t support him, and he fell once again to the floor, this time hitting his head on the marble surface, a small gash appearing on his forehead. A small splash of deep red blood splattered across the floor and flowed in a steady, light stream.

“Uncle Monty!” I screamed, louder this time. He looked up at me, the coughing finally stopping. “Little Vinie,” he said, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and the hall once again fell into silence.

“No,” I breathed. I turned to my parents and to this day swear that I saw a gleam of delight in my father’s eyes. “Somepony do something!”

My parents shared a silent conversation in a glance and, having come to a unanimous decision, my father shouted “Jeffery! Call the doctor!”

He must have been waiting outside the door, because the next thing that was happening was both my father and Jeffery carrying the unconscious Uncle Monty out of the room and into an awaiting carriage; rushing him to the hospital. Mother and I stayed behind. I pleaded with father to let me come, but he stated that a place of such drama, blood, and death was no place for a filly. As if there had never been any drama here.

I waited by the window all through the night, staring out into the street glow of the city from the balcony of my bedroom. At some point exhaustion must have finally overcome me, because the next thing I saw was bright sun light streaming through the balcony windows and gracing its warmth upon my face.

I leapt from my bed and ran down the stairs. I walked past the dining hall, but it was empty, the table having been cleared as if nothing had happened last night. Even the blood stain had been scrubbed away.

Maybe it never happened in the first place, I told myself. Maybe it had all been dream, a bad, horrid dream induced from hunger. Yes, that’s all it was, I convinced myself, just nothing more than a nightmare. I heard hushed voices from the lounge and I knew that if I looked in I would see mother and father talking on the sofa, while Uncle Monty read the newspaper from his favorite chair, just like every normal morning. I picked up my pace and sped around the corner. “Uncle Monty, I-” The words died the moment I saw the empty chair.

Mother and father, who had been talking while drinking tea, saw me come into the room and hushed their voices, making it clear that I was currently unwanted.

“Where’s Uncle Monty?” I asked.

“Viniam,” Father said. “You need to understand that he’s an old colt, and his health is far from perfect and-”

“Where’s Uncle Monty?” I repeated.

“Your Uncle is resting.” Mother said. “The doctor said it was a heart attack and was surprised that he lived through it. He has a few stitches in his head from where he hit the floor, but other than that, he is completely fine.” She scowled with the words as if it was terrible news. I eased a sigh of relief. At least he was okay.

“Can I see him?”

“Not at the moment, no.” Father replied. “He is asleep, and needs his rest. The doctor did say however that his attack was brought on by stress, so from here on out until the end of his days he will have to remain in bed, to avoid any more stressful environments.”

“Besides,” Mother said. “There are infinitely better ways to spend your time other than listening to that pompous fool.”

“Now, off with you Viniam.” Father said, and walked me towards the exit. “Your mother and I have some issues to discuss.” He pushed me out into the hall and violently shut the sliding doors.

I just sat there, the shock of everything over taking my filly brain. So, that was it. The end of the good old days, and my father had once again treated me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

I hung my head and was about to wonder off back to my room, when suddenly something occurred to me. Last night Uncle Monty had been on the verge of saying something, and it seemed important.

I very slowly crept back the door and pressed me ear against the cold, dark wood. The voices of my parents came in muffled bits and pieces through the thick oak, and it was hard to make out who was speaking over the clattering of their tea cups.

“…..she’ll wonder about…night. We’ll…to…tell her” I thought I heard father say.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous…no reason…absurd.” Mother replied.

“But she…go through…out knowing.”

“Don’t tell me…you feel the…that hooligan. She doesn’t…and…never will.”

“What are you doing Miss Sicarth?” A voice whispered next to me. I whirled over to see Jeffery, who had probably snuck up from behind while I was occupied with what my parents had been saying.

“Uh…” Think, Vin, think. “I was, er, looking for, uh…termites! Yes, that’s it. I was listening for termites in the wood.” I added a big squee to help make myself look innocent.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I was listening in on Mommy and Daddy to know what they were talking about.”

“Ah, I see. You still wonder what they were ‘discussing’ last night, I take it?”

“Yes. Will you not tell me, Jeffery? Will anypony ever tell me?”

I looked up at him pleadingly and could see that he desperately wanted to tell me the truth. But he just sighed and said, “Miss Sicarth, there are secrets within these walls that I would do anything to protect you against. If denying you truth is what I must do, then so be it.” He turned and started for the stairs. At the foot of the last step he turned back. “Sometimes, madam, ponies do things they often regret.” And with that, he turned once again, and left me sitting by myself, with only his last words to ponder.

1,048 views